


Vesperna at the Atrium Vestae

by Imperial_Dragon



Series: Imperial Earth [4]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: 2770 ab urbe condita, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Sexual Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Slavery, Spanking, Vestal Virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imperial_Dragon/pseuds/Imperial_Dragon
Summary: Celebrity slaves Valentine and Ven meet at the House of the Vestals while their masters discuss the sale of young criminals as slaves





	1. Hospitality at the Atrium Vestae

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mossgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/gifts).



> Inspired by [2771 ab urbe condita ](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1059413) by [Mossgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen)
> 
> This story follows directly on from [A second-hand emotion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090378), part 40 of 2770 ab urbe condita
> 
> Thanks to [macqy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy) for the excellent beta. Much appreciated!

Ven was glad to find the sitting room warm. His feet felt unnaturally clean: it still made no sense to him that his feet had been washed by the slaves of the House or that the Vestal Claudia Nerina had included himself and Willow in her greeting. It was nice but unnerving, and the frown on Master’s face showed his disapproval.

Three chairs were drawn up by an open fire; the permit for the fire must have cost them a pretty penny – until Ven realised that the Vestal Virgins wouldn’t need permits for fires. Master and the Vestal sat opposite each other. A slave woman sat on a cushion beside Claudia Nerina and Ven spied two cushions beside Master. He cautiously sat down too, keeping an eye on Master’s reaction and relieved when he nodded. Whatever the etiquette at home it was correct to follow the lead of the household, and if the Vestals preferred a more informal slave protocol Ven would not complain.

Claudia leaned back in her chair with a sigh and put her hand on the head of the slave beside her. “This is my _ancilla_ , Chryseis. Her presence was requested too, so I imagine this meeting has something to do with the upcoming court case.”

“What court case?” Master asked.

Master only kept up with the serious news, not the celebrity gossip fluff (as he called it) so Ven only caught up with the interesting news when he was allowed out the back with the other slaves. There had been a mention of the Serene Emperor and the courts but Ven could not remember any more. By the tightening of Willow’s fingers Ven could tell he knew something, but Willow kept his mouth shut like a good slave.

“If you don’t know I’ll save it for my other guest,” Claudia said. “In the meantime, a drink would be welcome. Girl!”

The girl who had passed on the invitation stepped to Claudia’s side and bowed.

“Warm spiced _mulsum_ ,” Claudia ordered.

The wine was laid out on a sideboard where the girl began her mixing. Master frowned at her.

“You allow your slaves great licence,” he said.

“Do I?” Claudia asked. “Chryseis, do I allow great licence to my slaves?”

“No, mistress.” Chryseis kept her face lowered but her eyes looked up through her lashes at Ven and he could see the humorous twinkle.

“The slave dared to lecture _me_ on politeness and insisted on individually inviting _my_ slaves,” Master said sharply. 

“Vesta is the goddess of the hearth and the _familia_ who gather around it – we welcome all the family, including the slaves. And I don’t want anyone mounted on a cross out of ignorance, so all visitors must agree to obey the rules. Especially the men.” 

Claudia cast an imperious look over the men present. Her strong, handsome face had the look of a goddess from the east, the sort who enjoyed smiting her enemies. Her veil did not cover her head so he could see the white and red rolls of her _infula_ framing her face. The headdress indicated Claudia’s sacred inviolability but Ven thought it gave her an air of savagery.

“But if it is any consolation, the girl is not a slave.” The girl in question carried a tray of goblets over to Master and knelt to present them: a creditable effort for one not a slave. “She is one of my students in training, to become a Vestal, if she passes the tests, and is now learning what it means to serve.”

Master took a goblet from the tray. The girl rose to present the tray to the Vestal then crossed to Willow and himself. Master made no movement so Ven hesitantly picked up a drink followed by Willow. Ven clutched the warm goblet, waiting to be told what to do. The girl presented the last goblet to Chryseis then stood by the wall just as well as any slave. 

Claudia lifted her goblet as if to make a dedication but was interrupted by the door opening. A slave stepped inside and slowly looked around the room in a most unslave-like manner. Ven cautiously looked up through his lashes at him; he was vaguely familiar and Ven carefully looked him over to try to identify him.

He was tall, with dark blond hair, rather pale skin, a gentle high bridged nose and a generous mouth. He wore a grey wool tunic embroidered at the edges with white: an extravagance rarely seen on a slave’s clothing. A satchel on a strap crossed his chest so this was a secretary just like Ven. So familiar, but Ven could not place him until the slave caught his eyes and smiled. His lips curled, nose crinkled and eyes creased and Ven suddenly recognised him from the photo in _Ave! serve_ : this was Valentine the _concubīnus_ and attendant of the Serene Emperor. Which surely meant that the Imperial family member was – 

Valentine stepped aside and revealed Gaius Augustus. His dark good looks were familiar from coins, official portraits and TV shows but Ven had never, ever considered that he would see him this close. Too close. Ven found himself trying to shrink his body without moving a smaller target, nothing to see here, he was just a slave, he didn’t need to panic because he was beneath the notice of the most important man in the entire world. Master would deal with him and Ven did not have to worry.

Master stilled, completely, before he rose to his feet with Claudia, his attention fixed on the Emperor. 

Ven had barely even started his panic attack before Chryseis twitched to draw his attention and crooked her fingers to indicate that they should kneel rather than sit. Once on his knees Ven immediately felt more comfortable and able to discretely peep up through his eyelashes.

The Emperor strolled causally forward to Claudia, holding his hand out to her. “Claudia, darling, it’s lovely to see you and so kind of you to host this little gathering.”

The Emperor and the Vestal greeted each other with a practised ritual: she took his hand and made a deep curtsey and brushed her lips over his hand. The Emperor raised her up and lifted her hand to his lips, definitely actually kissing them. Ven had seen this sort of thing before – the jockeying for position looked the same whether between the free or between slaves.

“You are always welcome in the _Atrium Vestae_ , my lord,” Claudia said, holding his gaze and suddenly smiling. 

The Emperor turned to Master and there were no power games with him. The Emperor simply held out his hand and Master, shoulders tight, knelt and kissed his hand. There was a kind of grace in the act, a soldierly submission to a commanding officer, yet Ven knew that in their ordinary life Master knelt to no one. Only for the Serene Emperor then and Ven hoped that his master forgot this humiliation before he got home tonight.

 _“salve, Vari Metelli.”_

The Serene Emperor subtly guided Master up. Once Master was standing, they clasped forearms in the usual citizen fashion. Ven could see the tension release in Master’s shoulders, which was good news for him. Ven really did not look forward to going home with a master tense from humiliation.

“Thank you for coming tonight.” The Serene Emperor flashed his dazzling, trademark smile at Claudia and Master. Ven thought his smile was genuine; it crinkled his eyes and invited them all into his good humour, yet he wielded his emotions like a weapon, turning it full blast on Claudia. “Please introduce me to the other people invited tonight.”

He looked at Chryseis then back at her mistress, who looked puzzled for only a moment.

“Oh, yes, Augustus – this is Chryseis, the slave steward of my household.”

Chryseis, still on her knees, lowered her head toward the floor and touched the ground just in front with her hands. She was a little stiff and her head didn’t make it all the way down but she kept herself decorously composed and moved with a grace Ven envied.

It is only as she rose and the Emperor turned to Master that apprehension clutched at Ven. He was beneath the notice of the great, just a fuck toy whose only importance was his use by his master. But as a toy he had no way to avoid that notice.

Master had gone all stiff again. Ven hoped he was not too offended at having to introduce his slaves.

“Augustus, here is Willow, my steward and Ven, my personal secretary.”

Ven followed Chryseis’s example again, lowering his head to the floor, but partway down he realised that he had spread his knees, lifted his ass and stretched out his hands in the prostration of a pleasure slave, when he had been introduced as a secretary. It was a breach of etiquette and Ven just hoped it was not regarded too severely.

“And _concubīnus_.” Master added that to cover for his mistake. Ven was grateful, although he knew that he would have to pay for his mistake later.

After the required pause Ven sat up, his face hot with humiliation. It was just that he was so used to being presented as a sex slave, if he was ever introduced at all, that he forgot to act as a secretary. A rookie mistake that Ven knew he would have to pay for later.

“How delightful,” the Emperor said, waving vaguely at Ven and the other slaves. “This is Valentine, my personal secretary.” Valentine stepped forward and knelt demurely, until he slowly spread his knees. “And my _concubīnus_.”

Valentine bowed his head to the floor, holding the position for the required moment before rising to his knees. His eyes were respectfully lowered but a faint smile touched his lips.

“And how interesting that we have slaves in exactly the same situation!” the Emperor continued. “Secretary and bed slave – it’s not many boys that can manage that.”

“Indeed, Augustus,” Master murmured.

“Please, sit down and be comfortable.” Claudia waved the trainee Vestal over with her tray of _mulsum_ to present to the Emperor.

Ven picked up Master’s _mulsum_ from the table and served it to him, repressing his own ridiculous desire to lean against his master’s knee. Or maybe to have Master’s fingers run through his hair as he did sometimes after one of their sexual encounters. Ven didn’t need reassurance, not really: he knew Master would protect Willow and himself as much as he could but the exalted company worried Ven enough that he wished it was possible for him to ask for something.

Or he could just admit that he was scared and wanted to cling to whatever illusion of safety master could provide.

Willow handed him his goblet of _mulsum_ , still warm, and Ven held it tight. He followed Chryseis’s example again and sat back comfortably. He had time to look covertly around and peeked at the Emperor and Valentin.

The Emperor wore a respectable Imperial purple _dalmatica_ , which suited his broad shoulders and muscular build. Valentine now stood beside him and Ven could now appreciate that the subdued grey tunic was almost scandalously short and worn over tight knitted leggings. Ven recognised them as a brand advertised on the Phallusy website. There was a version for masters, with the crotch sewn up, and the version for slaves where the seat was open at the back. Of course, Valentine might be wearing the sewn up version, but Ven thought about that prostration and how that short tunic might have ridden up enough to flash a glimpse of Valentine’s crack to anyone behind him.

Ven turned his gaze away from Valentine. His cheeks felt heated; before he had become his master’s _concubīnus_ he had never thought like this about another man. What was happening to him? Had Master really turned him into some _cinaedus_ who couldn’t resist another man?

The Vestal trainee returned to her place by the wall. All the other servers and slaves had left the room so they were ready for whatever private discussion the Emperor wanted.

Claudia raised her goblet again. “ _Augusto, patri patriae, feliciter!_ ”

The Emperor raised his in reply. “ _pro aris et focis._ ”

" _dii propitii!_ " Master said and the three tipped out a libation on the floor. That was a bit ceremonial for a simple _versperna_ , Ven thought, and sipped at his wine, and just about died of pleasure on the spot. That was the best wine he’d ever tasted! He took another sip just to be sure, and smiled at Chryseis when she raised her eyebrows in a discrete question. Valentine sipped too. He remained standing just behind his master, eyes up and roving the room in a decidedly non-servile manner.

The Emperor settled in his chair. “Now that we are all comfortable, I can explain the – well, the favour I need to ask of you.”

He did not look at all happy to be asking for a favour, and, after all, how often did the Serene Emperor have to ask for a favour? There must be an interesting story behind this, and for once Ven was going to hear it.


	2. Imperial favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Serene Emperor asks you for a favour, you can't turn him down - even if the favour is really annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [macqy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy) for the excellent beta. Much appreciated!

“You may have heard of the brawl last night,” the Emperor continued.

Claudia nodded, but Master shook his head. “I’m sorry, Augustus, but no, I have not heard.”

“Outside the Vitruvian Theatre,” the Emperor said. “A little bunch of aristocratic thugs, including my cousins Julianus and Poppaea, drunk and looking for trouble. And now they are all in the _Tulliarum_ awaiting their trial tomorrow morning where they expected to get a sentence of cosy slavery and sold to their family – at worst. Fifteen imperial, senatorial and equestrian little punks who are going to discover what it really means to be a slave.”

Master’s fingers tightened on his goblet, then relaxed, followed by the muscles in his forearms, and the fabric covering his upper arms subtly moved. It looked like Master was doing one of the covert relaxation exercises regularly touted by _Ave! serve_ as useful for confined slaves. Ven supposed it made sense: Master was tense and here just as unable to overtly release that tension as any slave. He had just never expected to see his master in that situation.

“So I have two favours to ask,” the Emperor continued. “One is suggestions for who can buy the children. I have certain criteria that must be met and a few people in mind but I’m sure that with your knowledge and contacts we can rustle up a few more punters at the auction,”

Both Master and Claudia nodded. That was fair, Ven thought. Master knew many of the best people of Rome, and of course the Vestal Virgins would know everyone and all their business from the contracts and wills they witnessed.

“The other favour is to buy Julianus and Poppaea and turn them into productive members of society in their five years of service. A much greater task, I admit, and certainly worthy of my gratitude if you even attempt it.”

That was greeted by stunned silence from Master and the Vestal. Ven tightened his fingers resting on his lap before relaxing. He desperately wanted to look at Willow but they were under their master’s eye, so he would have to forgo that reassurance. Claudia took a gulp of her _mulsum_.

“Poppaea,” she said. “Forgive me, Augustus, but you want me to buy Poppaea?”

“Well, you can’t buy Julianus,” the Emperor said, smiling again.

“But Poppaea is – is not –” Claudia struggled to express her feelings on the matter. Chryseis looked up at her mistress, concern and surprise in her expression. Ven imagined that Claudia was not often flummoxed by anything at all.

“We speak under the veil of Vesta,” the Serene Emperor said. “Is that the right expression?” Claudia nodded. “Which means that what is said here is not to be repeated.”

He looked at Master, then dropped his gaze to Ven and Willow.

“I am familiar with Vesta’s veil, Augustus,” Master said stiffly. “My slaves will say nothing.”

Ven hoped that he could forget this evening altogether but that was unlikely. And did he really want to forget meeting the Serene Emperor, and seeing Valentine?

The Emperor raised his brows but returned his attention to Claudia. “So give me your honest opinion of being stuck with a spoilt, pissy, aristocratic bitch whose been sucking the teat of the Roman she-wolf since babyhood, and should know better.”

“You have expressed my feelings exactly,” Claudia said, grinning. “I see no reason to sully the House of the Vestals with her presence, except that she is your cousin. Why do you want to enslave her anyway? She’s been a handful for a while if the gossip columns are to be believed.”

“I don’t know what the gossip rags say, but yes, a handful. As to why now – Val.” Valentine stepped forward and knelt at his master’s side, on one knee which was not the typical slave pose. “Have Clodia send Claudia and Varius our position paper on the political fallout from this.” Valentine removed his _tabula_ from his secretarial satchel with a graceful gesture and made a quick note before standing again. “My reasons are straightforward enough, but I suppose, as much as anything, I’ve just got sick of dealing with the fallout left by these stupid kids.”

“Understandable,” Claudia said. “But we Vestals have our duties and babysitting your cousin is not one of them, however Imperial she may be.”

“But you Vestal Virgins regularly buy _reus_ and train them up,” the Emperor pointed out.

“There is a big difference from buying carefully selected girls in need of a firm helping hand to fulfil their potential, and rehabilitating the spoilt aristocrat you so ably described, Augustus. How suitable can she be? I expect she’s addicted to cock, for example.” Claudia shuddered delicately.

“Addicted to cock? I don’t know Poppaea that well –”

To Ven's shock Valentine stepped forward to kneel again with no request from his master. “Mistress Poppaea has included women in her sexual partners so the cock addiction may not be so severe. On the other hand, she was found on an altar of Iuppiter _in flagrante delicto_ and that was with a boy.”

“What, up the hill?” Claudia asked, nodding in the direction of the Capitoline Hill.

“No, ma’am, in one of the suburban temples,” Valentine said.

“Well, if she was going to be caught fucking on an altar, Iuppiter’s is the one to be found on,” Claudia said.

“That’s what everyone says,” the Emperor said, “but it didn’t stop those priests screwing me over for the cost of cleansing and rededicating the altar. But we managed to keep it quiet and that probably pissed Poppy off more than anything. If she’s addicted to anything it is her name on the lips and social media accounts of the public, and the veil of the Vestal is the most important thing you can offer me.”

“Ah,” Claudia said. ‘And Julianus?”

“Needs a firm hand,” the Emperor said. “And I need someone who is not a friend or supporter or enemy, who has the reputation for firmness but who won’t abuse the kid. You, Varius, you fill all my requirements.”

That’s true, Ven thought, and was surprised to feel a little pride in that recognition of his master’s good qualities, few though they might be. 

“Your commendation is most pleasing, Augustus, but my support of the Republican ideals is known.” Master shifted uncomfortably in his chair and swallowed.

This might be courageous of Master. Ven had little knowledge of politics, such concerns were not encouraged in slaves, but even he knew that the attempted coup that had killed the Emperor’s divine father had been by the Republicans, and he could not imagine that the current Emperor had any love for Republicans now.

“But you supported the Imperial family in the coup,” the Emperor pointed out. “I know you were there with Aurelius Agrippa because you knew that those idiots would have made a complete balls up of the government. You put the wellbeing of Rome above the success of your faction. As for the rest, your VosTubam videos shove your firmness with slaves into the public’s face. There will be no one complaining that I’ve sold Julianus to a soft berth if you buy him.”

“And may I ask how you know I won’t abuse Julianus, Augustus?” Master asked.

Ven heard the resignation in Master’s voice. He was going to take Julianus as a slave, and there would be a member of the Imperial family to annoy everyone at home.

“When we started watching your very educational videos, we, ah, I had your household investigated – just in case; you were pretty severe with Ven at first.” The Emperor glanced at Ven and frowned slightly.

Oh, gods, the Emperor had watched his performance on the internet. Except they weren’t performances but real life and Ven was never going to get away from them. He felt his stomach twist: to be forever judged by the hours of himself begging and crying and sweating and coming on a screen.

Valentine, standing behind his master again, smiled at him sympathetically. The Imperial slave was very open with his expressions, as if he were untrained. It would be nice to smile back but Ven knew he was already on notice for his previous lapse in kneeling so he just could not risk it. Anyway, who did Valentine think he was, smiling at anybody as if he were free?

“The investigation showed he was doing all right and then you eased up. There’s no need to look so disapproving, Varius, I haven’t filled your _domus_ with recording technology. Your SIPAS and Bureau of Slave Management reports, plus a few questions in the market, were enough. Your slaves were remarkably close mouthed, so don’t blame them.”

Before Ven featured on VosTubam he had been totally ignored in the market when he picked up Grumio’s orders; after that he had to get used to the staring and the occasional intrusive question. How many of those had been an agent sent by the Emperor to check on – himself? That was just bewildering.

“So, you see how perfect you could be as a master to my stupid cousin. Will you do it?”

No pressure then.

“I have never bought a _reus_ ,” Master said, and Ven heard a new note in his voice: helpless resignation. And yet he struggled on. “I’ve always thought they were too disruptive for a private household.”

“A challenge then.” The Emperor smirked at Master, then the expression dropped and he sighed. “However, in the interests of full disclosure, I should point out that both Julianus and Poppaea have both been trained in combat – enough to defend themselves if needed.”

“Disruptive,” Master said. His face was pale when Ven glanced up through his eyelashes. “And potentially dangerous for my slaves. I will not put them at risk.”

Now that was brave of Master to defend his slaves against the Emperor.

“But you have the best stock available of restraints for resistant slaves,” the Emperor pointed out. “Body harnesses, head harnesses, lightweight cuffs and restraints with hygienic padding which can be worn long term – you have it all. I’ve seen them on your website. These products should be made available at the slave auction tomorrow evening to the lucky buyers so they can safely take their slaves home. For a reasonable price, of course.”

“We might need to stock up, Chryseis,” Claudia said. “The products of Phallusy are known to be of very good quality and if Poppaea is what you claim, dear Gaius Augustus, we might need them.”

The Emperor grinned at her. “My thoughts exactly. This is an opportunity for Phallusy, Varius! Of course, the household will be looking at your products with an eye to purchase some, in the near future, when we’ve seen how effective they are.”

After a long moment Master sighed. “It would be an honour for me to help you, Augustus. I’ll take Julianus as my slave. But he will be my slave, not your cousin.”

Claudia waved her hand. “Of course I will take Poppaea. She will learn the meaning of service here.”

“Thank you both. The sale contract will be _ne prostituatur_ and there will be no children, but otherwise the slaves will be yours to treat as you see fit.”

From behind the Emperor the slave Valentine stepped forward and knelt, this time on both knees, but still Ven could see that Valentine did not show proper slave demeanour. His eyes might be properly lowered but his posture was too proud. However he looked at it, Valentine was not as good a slave as Ven had originally thought.

“ _domine_.” Valentine gracefully turned his left hand, a gesture of high etiquette that Ven recognised from educational slave TV programmes as a request. “May this slave speak?”

The Emperor looked surprised but nodded.

“Mistress and master. Let us assume that you have succeeded in taming my master’s reprobate cousins.” Valentine sounded respectful at least. “They serve you as best they can and are obedient at least most of the time. And yet you may find that they do not submit to your authority in quite the same way as your other slaves. Too questioning, too inclined to take the initiative, and yet if you asked them, they would insist that they were trying to be the best slave possible.”

“Julianus will be trained,” Master said dismissively. “He will learn to be what I want, you need not doubt that.”

“I do not doubt you. But he may well react as he thinks a good slave should. His role models are the Imperial family slaves, after all.” By all the gods Valentine was arguing with Master, a free man, and more importantly, Ven’s master. “He might react like me.”

“You presume to lecture me in slave management?” Master said, icily. Ven actually cringed when he heard an edge of indignation in his voice. After all, it was his skin and arse that would pay for any annoyance when they went home. “I am an experienced master and I will not let my authority over my slaves be compromised.”

The Emperor looked at Valentine, frowning. The slave remained on his knees for a moment.

“Master, am I a good slave?” he asked.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in the Emperor’s voice. “You are my boy, Valentine.”

“Thank you, domine.” Valentine stood up.

Ven could not see what he did, but when Valentine was standing, he held something. It reflected the light with the dull sheen of metal. It was a gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
>  _Tullianum_ Located near the law courts, the Tullianum was used as a jail or holding cell for short periods before a trial or execution. The holding cells are all above ground; the original underground prisons are an historic site and tourist attraction  
>  _Roma diis_ Gods of Rome
> 
> _reus_ the accused, defendant, culprit, criminal – Mossgreen chose to use this word to refer to those sentenced to slavery for a crime
> 
> _tabula_ tablet
> 
> _in flagrante delicto_ "in blazing offence", a legal term used to indicate that a criminal has been caught in the act of committing an offence, often used colloquially as a euphemism for someone's being caught in the midst of sexual activity
> 
> _domus_ : townhouse
> 
> _ne prostituatur_ (historically _ne serva prostituatur_ ), a restrictive covenant on the sale of a slave (female in ancient Rome) which prohibited the use of the slave in prostitution, and which continued for all future sales
> 
> _domine_ – vocative form of dominus, master. The vocative case is the form of the word used when directly addressing someone.


	3. Ven vs Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are Ven and Valentine at all alike?

A gun - in the hands of a slave. Ven froze; he couldn’t do anything. Master startled up, stiff and shocked, his eyes fixed on Valentine and the gun. Claudia tensed too. Willow and Chryseis seemed to be as paralysed as himself. Even Valentine was still, looking intently at the gun in his hand.

The only person who seemed to be at all comfortable was the Emperor, who sat up and looked at the gun, then up at Valentine. “Really, Val?”

The slave swallowed. “Am I still your good boy, Master?”

“Well.” The Emperor seemed puzzled. “Is your gun loaded and ready to fire?”

“Yes, _domine_.”

“Are you pointing the gun at a person?”

“No, _domine_.”

“Is your finger on the trigger?”

“No, _domine_.”

“Are you intending to fire the gun now?”

“Certainly not, _domine_.”

“There we go, all the major gun issues taken care of, so yes, you are still my good boy,” The Emperor relaxed back into his chair. “Although I will want a word with you later.”

“Augustus, are you not going to punish this slave for brandishing a weapon in your presence?” Master was angry, and frightened, or possibly angry because he was frightened. It was always a nasty combination for slaves – the temptation to relieve the anger with a beating while relieving fear with a show of dominance. 

Ven shivered but Valentine seemed not to notice any threat from a free man. Valentine remained still but ready to act like Jamius Bondus in one of his films. Ven had thought that no slave could ever be a secret agent in real life but here Valentine seemed to show that anything was possible.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” the Emperor said. “His actions may be unwise, but not wrong. Valentine can use any weapon to defend me, although that may not have been his intention now. In which case he may care to elucidate his aims.” The Emperor looked up at Valentine, frowning. “And possibly apologise.”

“Indeed, sir and madam, and slaves.” Valentine bowed slightly; the gun did not move. It was pointed well away from anyone’s body. “I apologise for alarming you. That was not my intention.”

“Then you could put it away now.” While the Emperor did not seem at all concerned by the gun, he was obviously not happy with his slave Valentine.

Valentine twitched but obeyed. He slid the weapon into his secretarial satchel. Now that Ven looked at the satchel it did look too bulky for just a _tabula_ but there was nothing to show that Valentine kept a deadly weapon inside.

With the disappearance of the gun Master relaxed somewhat, while still keeping a wary eye on Valentine. Ven kept an eye on him too but sneaked a glance at Willow. He looked pale but composed, as a slave ought to in any circumstance. Well, if Willow could keep it together so could he, even if he wanted to creep away and hide behind Master. Could he edge a bit closer without drawing any attention to himself?

“This was just a demonstration of the sort of behaviour Poppaea and Julianus regard as normal from a slave – a household slave, at least.” Valentine stood up straight. He had lost the smirk and his gaze drifted coolly over his audience. “It is the sort of behaviour that has been presented to them as admirable, what their slaves should do when needed. I doubt Julianus would do anything this stupid” -the Emperor snorted- “but he may do something that seems outrageous, if he thought he needed to.”

“And you think I should excuse that sort of behaviour and allow this behaviour to go unchecked?” Master was shocked, obviously. No true Roman would tolerate that.

“No, sir.” Valentine at least sounded sincere.

“Of course not,” the Emperor said, now seamlessly taking over the argument. “Valentine merely suggests that punishment may not always be needed should Julianus misbehave, as you see it. Correction, perhaps, or firm guidance might be needed rather than harsh punishment. And I know that you can mete out chastisement with discretion – I’ve seen that video where you had Ven cane Willow and that other boy for their correct misdeeds. Once you’ve got past Julianus’s real disrespect and insolence I am sure you will not mistake foolish initiative for disobedience.”

Master caned me too, Ven thought, and when Valentine smiled at him sympathetically, he wondered if the slave remembered that. But when Master looked up and saw Valentine’s smile he scowled and pulled Ven close.

“You have a slave that suits you, Augustus,” he said. “I myself prefer the more common slave: well trained, obedient, respectful. Willow and my sweet Ven are excellent examples of servile nature with no faults of deportment or attitude. I know my slaves will never need excuses for their behaviour.”

Not quite true, as Ven had needed an excuse earlier in the evening, but his behaviour had not fallen as low as Valentine’s. Right now, though, that did not matter as Ven leaned his cheek against Master’s thigh, Master’s fingers in his hair rubbing very slightly on his scalp. Master’s other hand rested on Willow’s shoulder and Ven could see Willow had slightly pressed against his hand. The offer of comfort and reassurance warmed Ven even more than Master’s gentle hands after a video session. He relaxed against the solidity of Master’s leg; one hand reaching up to grip his knee, the other his master’s ankle – he just wanted to hold on to the nearest thing to safety there was here.

The Emperor nodded; Ven looked up at him. Both he and Valentine had already seen him in every sexual position he could think of, and surely just looking up could not be so bad, especially since he did not have a gun to brandish.

“I can see the attraction,” the Emperor said. He held up his hand and Valentine immediately knelt and lifted it to his lips, then bent his head to touch his master’s hand to his forehead. That act of contrition was a little late, Ven thought. “But Val – he is _concubīnus_ , secretary and bodyguard of last resort. I know you were in the first group with Aurelius Agrippa but when you found me you might not have noticed Val – he was lying on his belly with a bullet in his bum – a bullet that was meant for me.” Valentine looked up at his master, then both turned to look at Ven’s master. “Your slaves are obedient, but my Val would give his life for me. I do not know if your slaves would do the same.”

“My slaves do not need to do that,” Master said harshly.

“Of course not,” the Emperor said. “You are not Augustus.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. The Emperor was right. He and his slave were a team that acted together – his erratically behaved slave who was nothing like the slave he had so admired in the [Ave serve](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059509/chapters/37494485) article. Meanwhile Ven, who was a good, obedient boy, was nothing more than a toy and a tool. On the other hand, he had no scars from his master’s service and no one had attempted to kill him.

“So you were with Aurelius Agrippa, Varius,” Claudia said, in a break the silence casual tone. “In the first squad in? That makes this your second visit to Vesta’s House.”

She flicked a finger at the trainee Vestal who opened another door to allow more slaves and servants to enter. They bore a low table laden with plates mounded with fragrant food which they set in the middle of the chairs along with three small tables set beside each master before leaving the room.

For the first time Ven saw Master blush. “Indeed, Lady Claudia, a supreme honour which I have treasured as a sacred, personal memory.”

Master and the Vestal Virgins? And blushing: Master never blushed while Ven spent half his life with bright red cheeks. He just had to hear the story behind this. But it seemed that this was not to be.

“I did invite you all for _vesperna_ so why don’t we eat while we discuss who will buy the other young people,” Claudia said blandly.

Chryseis rose immediately to serve her mistress and the other slaves followed. The little tables held a cruet set of oil, vinegar and garum. On the low table Ven could see quite a few dishes that Master would like: marinated baby octopus, spicy lentil balls, stuffed eggs, eggs with a pouring sauce, three different breads, herb spread, dormice – a delicious feast. Despite eating his _cena_ earlier Ven would have liked to try some of the dishes.

Meanwhile the Emperor fixed his gaze on Master. “Now, what do you mean – your second visit, Varius?”

“Spare him his blushes, Augustus,” Claudia said briskly. “We should consider who else should attend the auction of yours, and eat this delicious meal before I am berated by my cook for letting it spoil.”

“Thank the gods,” the Emperor said. “I missed _cena_ today and this is a welcome supper.”

Why should an emperor, who commanded everything, miss his _cena_ for anything? If he was emperor – anything other than a slave – Ven would be sure to never miss a meal. Then again, what did he know of ruling an empire?

Ven made a selection from the dishes Master and placing them on his small table while Willow helped the trainee Vestal with drinks of herb scented water. Both Chryseis and Valentine served their mistress and master. Ven was glad to see that Valentine served with no trace of the superior expression he had showed before. In fact, he served with the graceful gestures that Ven had seen him use before. It made sense that, as the slave of the Emperor, Valentine had learned the high style of serving with its flowing gestures and subtle signals. From the corner of his eyes Ven could see Chryseis serving in the same style.

It left Ven feeling very plain and badly trained. It was true that Master had never made any indication that he wanted any of this hoity toity serving style but as a patrician Master could be expected to be served to the highest standards. And Valentine and Chryseis made it look pretty. With an effort Ven turned his attention to his own master, as he should, and arranged a dormouse with bread and herb spread on a plate before handing it to Master and selecting some of the octopus.

The Emperor stretched. “I need to piss.” 

He stood up, Claudia and Master scrambling to their feet but sitting back when he waved at them to be seated, and left with Valentine following. It gave Ven a good view of them together. They were similarly tall, and though the Emperor was of a somewhat heavier build Valentine was still broad shouldered and muscular. There was nothing of a conventional _concubīnus_ about him. There were rumours of depraved sexual activities in the Imperial family, and, looking at the Serene Emperor and his slave, Ven could well believe them.

Once the Imperial party had left the room Master’s neutral expression broke into a nasty scowl. “That slave needs discipline! I suppose Augustus knows what he is about, but _Roma diis_ , I’d like to wipe the insolence off his face.”

“Like that, is it?” Claudia laughed. “You want to take him in hand and teach him his place? Well, I can see why you’d want to do that.”

“What do you mean, Vestal?”

Ven flinched at his tone. He was sure that, whatever happened here, he was due for an unpleasant time once they got home.

“There’s Ven, kneeling there – you can’t deny that you like to change the expression on his face, can you? Just something about him makes you itch to change Ven, and now Valentine too.” Claudia smirked at Master.

“That’s outrageous! Ven is nothing like Valentine. He’s a good boy, obedient, knows his place.” Master even sounded outraged.

Ven wasn’t like Valentine at all, and Ven was glad to know that his Master knew that. Nothing like Valentine, who did not act like a proper slave, but still had his master’s trust, and got away with behaviour that would get any other slave crucified. Even if she was a Vestal Virgin, Mistress Claudia should not say that Ven was like a bad slave such as Valentine. Ven didn’t want Master to think that he had a thought in his head that Master had not put there.

Claudia shrugged. “I’m sure Ven is lovely. But he has a look about him that Valentine shares. Smart boys, both of them. Pretty, but if a slave doesn’t have anything between their ears it doesn’t matter how pretty they are – they’ll be disappointing. I doubt Ven or Valentine disappoint.” She smirked at Master. “However, we need to move on. Vesta demands that I offer your slaves her hospitality so I’ll set them up with some food while we start to consider who else we can foist these aristocratic slaves on to. My novice will take notes. Start thinking of any acquaintances that could do with an annoying slave in their lives.”

Ven and Willow helped Chryseis move the table with the left-over food to a cosy nook at the other end of the room.

“Sit here, Willow,” she said, indicating a high cushion that could almost be a chair.

“Chryseis, darling, have a chat with Willow about dealing with new slaves,” Claudia called.

“Yes, mistress.” Chryseis sat beside Willow. “Come on, boys, eat up. We won’t have long.”

Ven sank down onto a floor cushion and resisted planting his face in his hands. He just wanted to go home and forget this evening but no. This night would go on and he would have to face whatever his master wanted -

“If you’ve got a good website send it to me – oh, Ven, come on,” Willow said. “Try this octopus, and a stuffed baby capsicum.” He picked up a plate and piled on the food. “And a dormouse – you like dormouse.”

Willow held out the plate and Ven took it gratefully. Carpe diem and all that, and if he couldn’t manage seizing an entire day, he could at least seize a very nicely cooked dormouse.

He just hoped that he would not want to throw it up later, when he was at home and Master wanted to wind down from this meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Roma diis_ Gods of Rome
> 
> Jamius Bondus is mentioned in chapter 2 of my story [Mortality and movies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16128440/chapters/37680908)
> 
> The video where Ven canes Willow and Moss under the direction of his master was made during Mossgreen's story [Spare the rod](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867666)
> 
> Ven read about Valentine in [ Ave! serve id Sep 2770 auc ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059509/chapters/37494485). Click to see the magazine cover. Ven was featured in the very next issue and Ave! serve continues to publish articles about both of them, and other celebrity slaves.


	4. Valentine offers Ven the last chocolate coconut ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [macqy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy) for the excellent beta. Much appreciated!
> 
> Mossgreen has checked this - I hope you like my version of Ven, Willow and DVM!
> 
> Now without italics for Latin in the text (following Mosgreen's style) but I will still add translations at the end.

“That was a stupid fucking damn thing to do.” Master pissed, not looking at Valentine and glaring at the stream of urine. “Dangerous. I should report this to Iason.”

It was Master’s voice, but it was Gaius’s face that finally turned to Valentine, tight and unhappy.

“Maybe you should tell him.” Iason would beat him but the look on Gaius’s face was harder on his heart than any whip could be on his skin. “Thinking about it now, it may not have been the most sensible idea to pull a gun on a Vestal Virgin and a senatorial patrician –”

“Exactly. I could have explained it without your intervention.”

Gaius finished pissing. At least he could look after his own dick since he was wearing the dalmatic and not a toga, and Valentine could pull up his tunic to take care of himself.

“That Julianus and Poppy have learned that slaves like me are normal and that they ought to behave like me? And what that actually means?” Valentine huffed. “I think we’d still be arguing until Hades took us all. Poppy will be fine; I just hope that I haven’t wrecked Julianus’s chances with Varius.” He sighed ruefully. “Iason will have to know what happened. Whatever, if he beats me that’s OK.”

Valentine knew Master would never raise a hand to him; any corporal punishment required was delivered by someone else. They hadn’t made this arrangement: it just evolved between them. It did mean that any punishment was harsh. Iason hit a lot harder than Gaius ever would.

It also meant that any rougher play in their relationship was not compromised by reality.

“Although I might learn my lesson better if your hands were to apply the correction,” Valentine suggested with a smirk.

Gaius laughed, although he also rolled his eyes. “And you promised to fuck me. Maybe we can take a day off and knock off both our wishes at once.”

“When we don’t even have time for cena?” They were overdue for a holiday. Even Gaius needed time off. “I’ll fiddle our schedule and get us a day off, or at least an afternoon.”

“You do that. In the meantime, be a good boy out there and stop upsetting Varius. He’s likely to take it out on Ven and I know that a slave’s role, but I do feel sorry for him.”

“Gods, yes. Make nice with Varius, then, and you could put in a good word for the puer.” Valentine hadn’t even thought of how his stunt would affect Ven or Willow. 

Valentine followed his master back into the atrium, an andron in the Greek style. Claudia Nerina had already sent the slaves aside for their own hospitable refreshment and the young Vestal trainee stood ready by the table to assist.

“The kids – are any of them smart enough for the Aurelii?” Claudia asked.

“No, and they wouldn’t want a reus sentenced to only five years,” Master answered. “I’m sure the client programme is not an option for any of them, although it might be for the slaves I’ll confiscate. Check on that, Val.”

Valentine arranged Gaius’s – Master’s clothes as he sat and glanced over his table to check that the food laid out was still looking good and untouched. Dominus, he reminded himself, it was easier to keep his subservience in these intimate settings by thinking of Gaius as only his master. He made a swift gesture of assent before pulling out his tabula, not pausing when both Varius and Claudia twitched nervously, and sent a message to the secretariat. The team would be up all night following up any suggestions from this meeting.

Master beckoned the young trainee Vestal over. “Val, give her your tabula with the list of buyers we’ve made. Then go eat, and be quick about it.”

Fuck, now he’d have to remove the security access and wouldn’t get that back until ImpSec fixed the device. Valentine tapped the buyer list up and the security off, leaving the tabula as a dummy. He had his stretchy nanotab backup for emergencies but that was just annoying if he needed to do any serious work. The girl took the tabula and stood ready to record any details while Valentine bowed and left for his vesperna.

The other slaves looked warily at Valentine as he sat down on a cushion beside Ven, who very definitely resisted shrinking away.

“I’m sorry my, ah, antics upset you,” Valentine said, keeping his eyes down and his posture submissive, a tactic he knew worked with both masters and slaves. A sidelong glance at Ven showed that his tactic had not yet worked, and Willow and Chryseis weren’t on board either. “I really wasn’t going to hurt anyone – I was just demonstrating what Juli and Poppy regard as normal slave behaviour. I guess you might be caught in the crossfire – the purely metaphorical crossfire.”

“I’ll bet Willow and Chryseis will be all right,” Ven said, staring at the ground as if in the presence of a free man. “I’m the one who will cop it.”

“My master will try to put in a good word for you. But, yeah, I expect Master Varius will express his unhappiness with uppity slaves like me on you.”

To the casual observer Ven showed no reaction to that but his lips tightened and muscles twitched. Ven was trying to be as unreactive as possible, but Valentine knew Varius, Ven’s master, saw all Ven’s little give aways. 

“I’m a good slave,” Ven said sullenly. “I thought you were too. But Mistress Claudia said I was like you and I’m not!”

He was very upset, and that left Valentine feeling guilty. Poor Ven would get the worst of it, and he deserved better.

“Now, Ven, Valentine is a good slave for his master,” Chryseis said briskly. “A terrible fit for your master but the Emperor’s needs are different. And you both have a spark about you. Some masters hate that but Master Varius seems to like it. I wouldn’t have thought that of him.”

“You’ve both got a resting naughty face,” Willow said. Ven squeaked something that could be a denial. “It’s a thing! Apparently. Ven, every time you relax you look like you are going to mouth off or not obey a command – I suppose you look like you need putting in your place. That’s what Master said when he asked me whether you might work out as his boy.”

Ven stared at Willow in shock. “He asked you about me?” How had he not known that his master would have consulted his household steward over the best slave to take to his bed? Willow would know the junior slaves far better than the master, after all.

Willow just shrugged unhappily.

“You’d better start eating now if you’re hungry,” Chryseis said. “Mistress will want us back soon. We usually eat after the business but she figured that no one would want to hang around for that this time. But fucking Vestal hospitality must be maintained. Now, Willow, the rosters are the most important part – your new slave must never be left alone in restraints -”

Valentine piled a plate with delicacies, although not the dormouse. He liked a good dormouse as much as anyone but the bones annoyed him when he didn’t have time to pick them out. But a nice octopus or two, some aromatic blue cheese, stuffed eggs – he ate one while picking out the rest of his meal – and bread slathered with spread would do for a start.

Meanwhile Ven froze with his third dormouse still in his hand and stared at Valentine with astonishment and indignation written all over his face.

“I don’t believe it,” he hissed at Valentine. “This naughty face thing – that can’t be why Master wants me. It’s stupid! He only like obedient slaves.”

Valentine took a large bite of bread while he considered his reply. He could see exactly what Willow meant, but Ven had some fixed ideas of how slaves and master interacted, or at least ought to interact, and none of that included even the appearance of naughtiness in slaves.

“Master Varius is not the first master to want the impossible,” Valentine said finally. “He really wants both a completely obedient slave and a naughty boy he can bend to his will, and you are the nearest he will ever have. It’s not a bad thing – you should be able to make use of this.”

Ven sniffed. “No chance. Master knows when he is being manipulated.”

Would it be harder or easier now that both the master and slave knew that Varius liked Ven for more than just being a good slave? Valentine thought that Ven got his way more than he thought – not in avoiding his master’s attentions, but rather in getting what he wanted.

A tomato savoury caught Valentine’s attention next. He seasoned it with some garum and devoured it. From the corner of his eye he saw Ven very slightly tilt his head in interest. He really was better looking in person than in still photos, or in the videos. He still looked pretty and cute in those but the wide-eyed solemnity, or unhappy anticipation, were not as attractive as the perky interest in his eyes.

“How come you didn’t have cena?” Ven asked. “I thought you wouldn’t ever have to miss a meal.”

Of everything, Ven wanted to know this? But then most slaves were obsessed with food, given that they had no control over what or how much they ate. His own situation was unusual; he needed to be obsessed with Gaius (or Master, depending on the situation), not his next meal.

Valentine swallowed the last bit of pastry. “We were busy. The Empire doesn’t stop just because my master has something on his mind. We had to finish the work on the trial and sale, arrange for suitable media leaks of information relating to the kids, work on the Dacian situation, review the latest provincial reports -” Ven managed to look both uncomprehending and petulant. “Lots to do. So, we forgot. My master is busy running an empire. It’s healthy, really, since, statistically speaking, good emperors live longer than bad ones and good emperors are conscientious about doing a good job.”

Poor Aulus had not been a bad emperor, and still achieved divinity well before his time, but there was no doubt that those in the purple that neglected their job soon died off, whether they succumbed to a coup or were knocked off by the family firm before they could do too much damage.

“Being an emperor is not all baths and banquets,” Valentine added.

“No one’s life is,” Ven said. “But you get to do important work for your master and eat whenever you remember to and I bet your master doesn’t tie you up and beat you before fucking you.”

“Only if I want him to,” Valentine admitted. Ven shot him a disgusted look, and yeah, that was mean of him to say to a slave who had no such choice. “For what it’s worth, you have more chance than me at freedom.”

Ven just stared incredulously at him, then stilled his face. He looked determined to not show any expression.

“There are no tighter shackles than the ones you lock on yourself,” Valentine said, but with no expectation that Ven would understand.

Chryseis and Willow had spent the entire time talking quietly but urgently to each other.

“I think the Phallusy Control with Comfort range is the best,” Chryseis said. “Don’t bother with anything your master uses on Ven – go for the labour slave restraints. They may not look as pretty but you’ll appreciate them when you have to wash the slave. Believe me, swapping cuffs and chains over is a pain. Not that I have much experience in dealing with resistant slaves as most of the girls we buy need encouragement more than anything. Then again, whether they are attacking you or having a panic attack doesn’t matter: you need control and the stuff Master Varius uses on Ven will cause injury if used long term.”

Willow listened intently. Valentine could see him filing everything away into his memory. Since most slaves didn’t have access to electronic devices to remind them of information, they cultivated memory tricks and Willow looked like the type of slave to have that down pat.

“Maybe I could ask Master to let you send me some weblinks,” Willow said, twisting his hands anxiously. “I have never had to deal with new slaves like this. I mean, everything you tell me is sensible but I wouldn’t have thought of these things myself, and I know that the internet is full of shit.”

“Be glad to. I’ll ask my mistress to suggest it.”

Willow smiled at her in relief. Julianus would be a lot of responsibility for him to take on. Valentine wondered if Varius would have much to do with the training of the new slave or just leave it to the slave staff. He cast a quick glance at the free people. They still seemed engrossed in their discussion but he thought that they would soon be over their gossip session so he’d better finish his hurried vesperna, and a chocolate coconut ball looked like the very thing. A few crumbs on Ven’s plate suggested that he had already indulged.

“Take the last one if you like, Ven.” Valentine took one then held out the plate for Ven who took at doubtfully but ate it enthusiastically. “I’m sorry we got off to a bad start, but there’s a good chance we’ll meet again. After all, your master has been brought to the attention of my master, and I can tell you that he never forgets people who can be of use to him. Maybe you should air out his senatorial toga.”

Ven frowned. “Sure. But Valentine, did the Emperor really check up on me? You said he was so busy.”

“Ah, well, that was me.” Valentine shrugged. He liked to let Master take the credit for these things but in this case the truth was more credible. “We were watching the videos and those first ones were pretty harsh so I asked if it was all right if I checked up on you and he said OK. So I sent Imperial Security to check. Your videos are popular, and Varius is a bit of a role model for the more conservative Romans as he is a patrician and a descendent of the Varii – the last Imperial dynasty before the Vitruvii. We want him to model good slave management. At least he’s eased off a bit now.”

Whatever Ven wanted to say was cut short by Chryseis.

“Time’s up, boys,” she said.

They all stood up, brushed off the crumbs and adjusted their tunics.

“Thanks,” Ven whispered. “But what shackles did you put on yourself?”

Valentine didn’t think Ven understood. “Love. Love is a tighter bond than any.”

Ven just looked puzzled at the idea of loving your master, but then he belonged to Varius.

Ven did not seem reluctant to return to his master. Varius looked carefully at both of his slaves as they knelt for him but seemed satisfied when he sent them to their cushions. Perhaps he wanted to make sure that the dangerous Valentine had done them no harm.

“Your little Ven is such a sweet boy,” Master said as Ven knelt beside Varius. “So obedient, so useful. I do enjoy your videos, very instructive. You must treasure him.”

That brought an adorable blush to Ven’s cheeks. Varius looked down at his slave – was he smiling fondly?

“Indeed I do. I take good care of my slaves when they serve me well.”

“Let us hope that Julianus quickly learns to serve then,” Master said.

Valentine hoped that the Imperial approval would mitigate some of the bad temper likely to be visit on Ven. The slave looked more alarmed than appreciative, though, so Valentine hoped this praise did not backfire on Ven.

Valentine bowed to Claudia before taking the tabula back and kneeling at his master’s feet. There was quite a list of new names, including some starred for actual purchase of a slave rather than just adding to the audience. None were celebrities or of the more notable families, as they had already been considered, but all were at least respectable like Quintus Sestius Philippus and Ti. Annius Faventinus, known friends of Varius. ImpSec could check them out.

“I just thought of someone,” Claudia said suddenly. “He might be a bit controversial but what about Potitus Domitius Catilina? He has no feuds with any of the families and I know he’ll treat a slave well.”

“What, the garum magnate?” Varius actually sounded indignant. “The man who wears a toga everywhere?”

“Oh, yes.” Master sounded amused. “I saw him in his toga – in his sandals – in public, in the street! And I haven’t spoken to him myself but I’ve heard of his reputation.”

From Valentine, who had had to speak to him when every other member of the Imperial Household had managed to weasel their way out of it. He hadn’t forgotten that conversation in a hurry, having learned more about garum than he had ever imagined was possible. Even Ven looked unhappy at his name, until he seemed to remember that his face was too expressive and he removed all expression. What did he know about Domitius Catilena?

“I’ve been trying to get him to buy a protocol slave for some time, and one of these well brought up equestrian boys will do just as well,” Claudia said. “If you must know, his family have been clients of my family since they came to Rome from Spain.”

Claudia was a good judge of character, but Valentine thought that he had better try to talk to Ven about Domitius. Not that it really mattered, surely the whole point was that the kids ought to suffer the rigours of slavery (carefully selected rigours in the case of Julianus and Poppaea) but he couldn’t help it – until the kids were officially slaves, he felt that he ought to take care of them. As if they were free people, which they were now, but wouldn’t be later.

It was too late to figure out this tangle of freedom and slavery. Surely the evening was over now? He could send this extended list of buyers off to ImpSec and they could pull an all-nighter checking them all out. Next time they’d just send the rei to Hades and hard labour, and be done with them.

“Thank you for your help….” Master was laying on the charm here as they got ready to depart. He held out his hand to be kissed again before they all moved into the atrium of the andron. 

Valentine headed over to the shoes with the other slaves.

“What’s the problem with Domitius Catilena?” he quietly asked Ven, once they were across the room from the masters.

“He gave me this really funny look at a party,” Ven said. His lip wrinkled in distaste. “Like he wanted to strip me there and then. I don’t know why it seemed so creepy.”

“That’s my mistress’s fault,” Chryseis said. She had accompanied them on the pretext of being helpful. “She said that you were fashionable and that showing appreciation of you was a good thing socially. Clearly, he didn’t manage to do this correctly. He needs a bit of help.”

Ven stood up. “He sure does.”

Valentine looked down at Ven. He really was quite short, easy to manhandle. He’d seen Vaius handle Ven on the videos, sometimes totally relaxed with exhaustion or pleasure, sometimes just limply obedient to the desire of his master. For just a moment Valentine imagined holding the weight of Ven – he could, easily – but they were out of time, and they returned to their masters.

From now on at least everything was out of his hands. ImpSec would do its security checks; the Imperial Legal division would deal with the court and the auction; the witnesses were ready. Now Gaia and Marcus could be told who would buy their children, but Gaius could do that.

“I would be pleased to welcome you back to the House, Varius,” Claudia said. “To the men’s part of the House.”

How bizarre it was that, of all the men here, only Dr. Varius Metellus had entered the Atrium Vestae proper, albeit as part of a counter coup. He and Gaius had always suspected the existence of connections between the House and the palace but were never able to confirm it. Was Claudia making some power play here? Or just teasing? Vestals!

But they were finally leaving. Valentine bowed to Claudia Nerina, and Chryseis, and they were outside. The clouds had cleared and the night was cooling rapidly. Two Teslae Superbae waited. Valentine would rather have walked the short distance back to the palace, in the brisk night air, but Ven’s look of wonder at the prospect of riding in a sleek, purple car made up for it, and there was no way the Emperor could walk if one of his subjects would drive.

So there was the car to take them back to the palace. A guard held the door open and Master elegantly slipped into the back seat. Valentine followed, the door closed, and the Emperor waved to the little crowd outside the Atrium Vestae almost on reflex.

As the car pulled away, Val fell himself into Gaius’s arms. It was over. They had committed Poppaea and Julianus to the people who would control their lives for the next five years. Two kids, who had been stupid and dangerous, condemned to servitude. Two kids that he knew, who would be slaves in a way he himself was not. He clutched Gaius and told himself that he didn’t need to feel guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _andron_ (Greek: ἀνδρών andrōn) part of a Greek house that is reserved for men
> 
>  _rei_ – plural of reus the accused, defendant, culprit, criminal – used in 2770 auc to refer to those sentenced to slavery for a crime


	5. The theatre of slavery

Gaius pulled Val close to his body. “It’s done now,” he said.

Pulling out now would be a declaration of weakness unacceptable to the staunch Roman people. Julianus and Poppaea were on their way to their new slave lives; only the formalities remained.

“We have to tell Gaia and Marcus now,” Val said. “Or they’ll hear via a rumour.”

“I’ll do it,” Gaius said. “Clodia wrote a report I can send them, along with the associated files. And I’ll tell them that, despite everything, I think Claudia and Varius will be good for their children. Claudia won’t stand any nonsense, and she’s up for Vestalium Maxima soon so there will be plenty of work for Poppy to do. And Varius Metellus might be a dick, but he’ll turn Julianus into a useful member of society whether Juli wants it or not.”

“I was a lot happier about Varius when I saw him with Willow.” Val had expected Varius to pet Ven, but the brief touch to support Willow, and the slave’s relieved response, showed that Varius was able to inspire positive feelings among all his slaves.

Val leaned over to the intercom to talk to the guards in the front seats. “Let ImpSec know we’ll need secured tabula for the Emperor and myself when we get in.”

Gaius leaned over. “And call Iason to meet us.”

“Arsehole,” Val muttered when Gaius settled back.

“Iason needs to know what you did,” Gaius said, and prodded him rather hard in the ribs. “He’s in charge of the guard – I’ll let him deal with this.”

Of course Gaius was going to be sensible in dealing with his misdemeanour, rather than stamping around exerting his authority like a normal master. Val made a face at Gaius but leaned against him and wished the trip could take longer. The threat of Iason’s disapproval always sent him back to his younger self, desperately seeking to prove himself to his boss. But even the usual heavy night delivery traffic did not delay them: the Praetorian escort’s flashing lights and guns casually on display easily cleaved through the trucks and vans.

In the underground garage, they passed through the doors to the security desk where the duty officer took Val’s possibly compromised tabula and issued him with a new one.

“Send the potential buyer list through to be vetted, and any that pass the screening can go through to Legal,” Val said, glad to pass the job to someone else. Let the Imperial Security and Imperial Legal teams deal with the logistics in an all-night session. Val was damn sure he never wanted to be involved with another slave sale again!

Although he had already bought a slave today: little Arruns. Poor kid – he would be utterly bewildered by the events of today, and tomorrow would be no better. He’d be in court as a witness, with no idea of what was going on. Val sighed.

“I’ll need to make a few arrangements,” he said to Gaius as they waited for a lift to Gaius’s private apartment, and called the legal team.

“Good evening. You have reached the Legal Department of the Imperial Household and are speaking with Helvia. How may I help?” Helvia appeared on his screen, smiling professionally. Val recognised her as one of the new client programme slaves sent down from the Bononia law school to intern with the Imperial Household legal team.

The lift door opened and Gaius led him in.

“It’s Valentine,” Val said. Helvia straightened. “I need someone to accompany one of the slave witnesses tomorrow, Arruns. Just some reassurance and explanations, and making sure his testimony runs smoothly. He’ll be picked up by one of the vans early tomorrow morning and someone needs to meet him at the Senate building and stay with him until he is taken back.”

The courts had decided to hold the trial in the Curia. There was seating for an audience, excellent security and an air of gravitas suitable for an appearance by Augustus, even if it was too much for a bunch of adolescents and slaves. All they needed to do was make the correct sacrifices in the morning to convert the Senate meeting room to a court room.

“Certainly, Valentine.” Helvia paused and bit her lip. “Do you think I could do it? It’s my day off tomorrow so I would be easier to schedule in.”

“Sure, if you want to.” Valentine followed Gaius out of the lift into the back corridor. “But you don’t have to work on your day off.”

Helvia shrugged. “I’ll get some peculium. But it’s a chance to attend this trial I’ve been working on all day. I can look after Arrruns – he’s the fifteen-year-old scortum, isn’t he? It’ll be fun, and educational for me.”

Valentine eyed her cautiously. He didn’t know these new slaves, but there was no reason that Helvia should not be a suitable escort for Arruns. At least with a slave trained in legal matters the boy would get an accurate account of the trial.

“Fine,” Valentine said. “As long as he’s looked after.”

“Oh, he will be.” Heliva giggled as she signed off.

“Arruns, is it?” Gaius smirked. 

“Just taking care of your investment–” Val began as they headed to their private apartment, but stopped as someone walked down the corridor towards them. It was Iason. “Oh, shit.”

“Sorry,” Gaius muttered as he hurried off to leave Val alone with the security chief.

“My office, Valentine,” Iason snapped. “Now.”

 

They didn’t go to Iason’s main office, where he coordinated the internal security of the Empire, but to the small office in Gaius’s private apartment where the Emperor’s security team organised their schedules and leave.

“What’s this about?” Iason demanded. “I don’t appreciate being dragged away from my wife at this hour, so it had better be fucking important.”

Valentine closed the door. “I have to report a breach of protocol at this evening’s meeting.” He squirmed uncomfortably as Iason glared at him. “I, um, drew my gun.”

“You fucking what?” Iason shook his head and sat behind the desk. “I expect you thought you had a good reason, but Gaius obviously has reservations. You’d better tell me all about it.”

“It happened under the veil of the Vestals – I mean, I did it under the veil of the Vestals,” Valentine amended hastily. Iason hated any evasive talk: he wanted to hear you take the responsibility for your actions.

“I know about the meeting and who was there, and I don’t need to hear about anything else. I want you to tell me about you, what you did and why.”

“But Varius was the reason I pulled the gun.” Valentine sat down across the desk from Iason. “I wanted to show him what Julianus would think a good slave might do, a good slave as modelled by me or Tito, or you. I could imagine Julianus jumping in front of a slave and arguing about the correct punishment, and Varius not understanding that Juli was not being disobedient – I mean insolently disobedient. I don’t know that I succeeded but I think I gave him something to think about.”

“And what made you think that producing a gun would do the trick?”

“Intuition?” Valentine said hopefully. “That something shocking might make Varius realise that we Imperial slaves are trained differently. I don’t know, Iason, I only thought of this once I was there and watching old-school master Drusus Varius Metellus and his very obedient slaves and realising he had no idea of how Julianus thought a good slave would behave.”

“I think I understand. You wanted to protect Julianus. But, Val, your only concern is your master, Gaius, the Serene Emperor. And you can’t ignore the whole gun safety issue. If there had been an accidental discharge -” Iason sighed. “I can’t ignore this.”

Valentine knew what that meant. Something had to be done to maintain the hierarchy: a theatrical enactment of slave rituals of punishment to reinforce the structures of slavery, regardless of whether it was likely to work. In this case, Val watched Iason scrabble through the desk drawers until he found a stout strap.

Fuck.

Iason wasn’t the biggest man; he’d been very much the puer delicatus when he had been a boy and now, as a middle-aged man, he was not powerfully built but rather lean and fast. And skilled with a strap, as Val had found out over the years.

“You can brace yourself on the desk,” Iason said.

Val pulled up his tunic and undid the braccae at the back without being told to reveal his naked bottom, then leaned on the desk on his elbows, pressing his palms down on the desk top. Iason tucked the end of Val’s tunic under his belt.

“Nice pants,” Iason commented, slapping Val’s bottom casually. “I wish they’d been around when I wore that sort of thing – Aulus would have loved them. Ready?”

Val nodded. The strap lightly slapped against his buttocks, a mere tap to set Iason up for the spanking.

“Twelve.”

The strap slammed down, hard. A bright stinging blush of pain swept across his cheeks. Val barely had time to yelp before another blow struck, and another. Iason was not holding back; this was a fast and furious thrashing. The sixth blow caught under his cheeks on the tender spot and Val groaned. 

“Your master, Gaius Augustus, is your concern – your only concern – not anyone else.” Iason’s breath was only slightly heavier than usual. “You do not threaten anyone with the weapon given to you to protect your master. Fuck it, Valentine, if anyone else had done this – slave, free, soldier – I would be dismissing them from service. Don’t trade on your relationship with Gaius again. If you can’t control yourself, you can’t protect Gaius.”

Iason switched to the other side and carried on. The slap of the strap cracked; a few tears trickled down Val’s face, but not because of the beating.

It was over with a final strike across the bottom of his buttocks. Val caught his breath and his nose bubbled when he breathed out. Iason pushed a box of tissues over and Val blew his nose.

“Shit.” Val straightened. He knew his bottom would be red and it hurt, but there was no deep ache to indicate Iason had bruised his ass. “Have you gone soft, old man?”

“I can carry on, if you want.” Iason smirked at him. “What’s the point of beating the shit out of you? You know what you did, what was wrong in what you did, and what not to do in future. You and Gaius can tell Varius that you were punished, if he ever asks, but I don’t want you out of action.”

Iason held out the strap, and Val bowed to kiss it. “Thank you for your correction, domine,” he said.

As Val turned to the door, Iason raised his hand. “Just to make sure you really get my point, you will present to me an essay on gun safety, with special emphasis on accidental discharge, including statistics and a full bibliography. Within the next week.”

“As you command,” Val said, and bowed again. The strapping had been just a display of chastisement and submission, rather than a serious punishment, but the essay was the real deal.

 

Gaius was sitting up in bed when Val came in. He waved Val to the bathroom. When Val returned Gaius was still sitting there but he had water and an icepack.

“Come here,” he said, patting his thighs.

Val lay down over Gaius’s legs. “I don’t really need ice,” he said.

“Maybe not, but indulge me.” 

Once Gaius had decided Val needed something he was implacable, so Val obeyed. He pulled up his tunic, and Gaius laughed when he saw the split slave pants.

“Cute,” he said, and delicately undid the knot and opened the split to expose his buttocks. He laid the pack on Val’s bottom. The ice soothed the heat and sting, and Val sighed. “What’s the real damage?”

“An essay on gun safety,” Val muttered.

“Iason knows the deterrence of a good, hard essay.” Gaius stroked his back. “You can start tomorrow. Other than the trial and the sale, what do we have on?”

Val tried to think. Now that he was lying on Gaius on the bed, exhaustion crept up on him. “I know your schedule was cleared, but there will be family meetings.”

“I think Quintus Caesar will want to have a long chat with me,” Gaius said. “He’ll want some certainly about the succession.” Gaius’s hand stilled. “You know, neither Julianus nor Poppaea would have been suitable for Augustus, yet, after their time as slaves, I think they might have been.”

“Compulsory slavery, like in Imperial Earth.” Val considered it. He had always liked the idea, however impractical it might be, of masters and slaves sharing important experiences, but this time he could appreciate the redemptive quality Gaius saw in the proposal. “You could be right, but only with the right person. Juli and Poppy? I don’t know. I hope you are right. But they can’t become Caesar now.”

“No.” Gaius’s touch on his back moved down to his thighs. “Don’t you have to call your girls tomorrow?”

Val counted the days. “Yes. I’ve got an alert set up. Hey - how come you remember the date? Who is the secretary here?”

“I try to follow you and the kids and Helena.” He hesitated. “In a little while, when I’m married and have my own children, I’ll need to be the sort of father you are. It’s useful to watch someone else deal with the issues first.”

“So, I’m the role model for fatherhood? Not your own father?” Aulus had not been the nicest of people but he had managed to produce Gaius, which was pretty impressive as far as Val was concerned.

“He did his best, but I saw him as a child sees his father. You – I see how you try your best. I didn’t see that with him.”

That was so sweet. Val wasn’t sure his parenting skills were all that good – Helena and Narses did all the hard work, and Daphne and Ese were great kids – but it was flattering to think he was worth imitating. Or maybe it was terrifying to feel so responsible. He decided not to worry about it right now, and instead concentrate on the moment.

“My bum’s getting cold.”

Gaius threw the ice pack aside and kissed his cheeks, hot lips briefly brushing his skin.

“Very cold.” Maybe if he whined loudly enough Gaius would get the hint.

Gaius did; his hot hands covered Val’s arse. “It’s time to sleep, my love.”

Sleep? From the glint in Gaius’s eye it would be some time before they slept. Val wriggled around until they were on their sides and face to face. Gaius gripped his bum to pull their cocks together, his hands not just warming his bottom but his heart as well. In those few minutes his cock had risen along with Gaius’s. Val rolled his groin against Gaius, the brush of their cocks igniting the need to move.

Since Gaius’s hands were occupied gripping Val’s lower body, Val used his free hand to pull Gaius’s head close so he could kiss his master’s lips enthusiastically. But even as his mouth opened for the kiss, the fatigue of the day hit him and that enthusiastic kiss relaxed into a slow, gentle press of his lips and tongue against Gaius. Gaius, of course, was still wired from the day and took over the humping action against his dick.

“I’d like to fuck you,” Gaius whispered. “What do you think?”

Val considered it briefly. “I’m too tired to really enjoy fucking. It’s nice like this.”

“OK, like this then.” Gaius interrupted his grind to reach for the lube in the bed head. It took a few moments for him to get the lube on their hands and cocks, legs intertwined, and then Val sank into the gentle bliss of both their hands on their cocks, so much together that he could not distinguish one hand from another. He rocked against Gaius, letting the pleasure surge within, and the world beyond the two of them go soft. He closed his eyes just to open them and look into Gaius’s eyes and press their lips together. There was no urgency, only this long moment together until it was as if there was only one cock between them and anything one felt the other did too. The throb of pleasure sharpened until he came, Gaius just after him.

Val caught his breath. Gaius was already blinking sleepily. A late-night orgasm was the best way to send Gaius to sleep, no matter how much he resisted.

“Let me clean you off.” Val reached up to the towel dispenser and pulled put a warm towel. He carefully wiped the come off Gaius, then himself before tossing the cloth away. 

Gaius leaned forward to kiss him. “Carus. Meus carus…” His voice degenerated into a mumble of endearments and “Mehercle, I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep,” Val said, and pulled down another towel to wipe their faces.

He pulled away a little; both of them were inclined to twitch violently while falling asleep and wake their companion, although Gaius seemed to have skipped that part tonight.

Val tossed the towel. “Domus! Lucernam exstinguĕ.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
>  
> 
>  _Iason_ Latin lacks a "J" - Julianus should be "IVLIANVS". Jason thinks of himself as Iason  
>  _Vestilium Maxima_ The chief Vestal (Virgo Vestalis Maxima or Vestalium Maxima, "greatest of the Vestals") oversaw the efforts of the Vestals, and was present in the College of Pontiffs. The Vestalium Maxima was the most important of Rome's high priestesses.  
>  _Bononia_ Bologna  
>  _grăvĭtās_ weight, dignity, importance  
>  _scortum_ prostitute, a pejorative term used for both sexes  
>  _puer delicatus_ delicate boy, pretty boy. The "exquisite" or "dainty" child-slave chosen by his master for his beauty as a "boy toy" and cast in the passive role of receiving anal penetration  
> Quintus Caesar – Quintus Vitruvius Mellitus Aurelianus Caesar, first cousin once removed of Gaius and second in line of succession  
>  _carusMehercle_ by Hercules!  
>  _domus! lucernam exstinguĕ_ O house! Extinguish the lamp.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations  
>    
>  _vesperna_ supper
> 
>  _Atrium Vestae_ House of the Vestals
> 
> Vestal Virgin - Historically six dedicated virgins kept the fire of the goddess Vesta alight in her temple in the Forum Romanum. In 2770 auc there are six principal Vestals, many assistant priestesses and temples throughout Italy and the Empire.
> 
>  _ancilla_ female slave, handmaid
> 
>  _mulsum_ honey wine
> 
>  _infula_ a fillet of red and white wool worn in ancient Rome as a token of religious consecration or inviolability, including long rovings of unspun wool tied in complex patterns including hanging loops or streamers called vittae  
> [Vestal Hairdressing: recreating the "Seni Crines" by Janet Stephens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eA9JYWh1r7U)
> 
>  _concubīnus_ \- enslaved male concubine, male bed-slave
> 
>  _salve, Vari Metelli_ Hail, Varius Metellus
> 
>  _dalmatica_ dalmatic, a loose wide sleeved tunic
> 
>  _Augusto, patri patriae, feliciter_ "Hail to Augustus, father of the country!"  
> Later, guests continue to offer toasts with their libations by yelling to the Gods: _dii propitii!_ : "May the Gods be propitious!" 
> 
> _pro aris et focis_ For our altars and fireside.
> 
>  _cinaedus_ a hard word to translate, it refers to the receptive male in a m/m relationship. I have generally translated it 'fucktoy'. From Wikipedia: a derogatory word denoting a male who was gender-deviant; his choice of sex acts, or preference in sexual partner, was secondary to his perceived deficiencies as a "man" (vir)


End file.
